Weekender: Be and Tee

This weekend, clementines in a white bowl. Curtains hung to billow, hooks hung to expect. A small castle spied on front steps. Found, a tissue-thin gray tee, sleeves long enough to cover the tops of hands. It is how sleeves should be, how hands look forward to cool summer nights, perhaps before a small blaze. The trees leaf, the petals drop. Oil of clementine. On a blanket and beneath kites, gorgeous poems by a poet gone missing. Poems that made me, as Emily says, "feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off." Poems for now, yes. But also for now and for now and also for now.